If Alex knew what he was thinking, there was a good chance that she would steal his scotch and just go to the beach with it or something. Because no. As it was, there was a bit of a scowl at that laugh, because she knew him enough to know that whatever it was that he was thinking about, it wasn't something that was going to be particularly kind to her in her estimation.

The scowl remained fixed for a moment, and shifted into a pout before she complained, "please, like I've read any Austen since I've met Lizzie, Richard." Because it wasn't cool to do that, at least not really. Not when she knew things about the other woman's life that she shouldn't. "But I also I thought you'd like telling me everything that was wrong with the text. We haven't done that in a while."